


Bittersweet

by VeloxVoid



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Boys In Love, Coffee Shops, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Introspection, Loving Marriage, M/M, Married Couple, Peace, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26549002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeloxVoid/pseuds/VeloxVoid
Summary: After the war, Ashe took up a more relaxed lifestyle, reading in the comfort of the local coffee shop. The love of his life, Dedue, accompanies him for tender moments.
Relationships: Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert & Dedue Molinaro, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	Bittersweet

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this little introspection into the post-war lives of Ashedue :)
> 
> This was previously an original piece that I wrote for “Morning Coffee” (@YummiGummiZines on Twitter), but I decided to edit it since I thought it fit Ashe and Dedue’s dynamic so perfectly. If you’d like to read more fics and see gorgeous coffee-related art, the zine can be found here:
> 
> https://twitter.com/YummiGummiZines/status/1304876752737644546?s=20

_“It doesn’t have to be so bitter.”_

Ashe could hear the words ringing in his head in that soft, dulcet voice, so deep it sounded nothing more than a rumble in the man’s throat. Those words would repeat in his head when he even so much as _thought_ about coffee. He knew that – he _knew_ there were ways to make it more tolerable; he knew you could add syrups, milk, sugar, cream, and yet still he couldn’t bring himself to drink the stuff.

The coffee shop was quiet – quaint, small, independently-owned – and was his favourite place to be. Ashe liked to read there, basking in the low, dull ambience; the coffee machine whirring, customers murmuring, the clattering from the small kitchen in the back all drifted softly over to his ears as if on a lazy breeze. The volume was a low mumble – just right to concentrate to and lose himself in the world inside his novel. It was perfect.

Almost as perfect as the voice of the man about to greet him there.

Ashe sat in an armchair with his legs tucked up under him, his book resting atop the table he sat before. The window to one side of him showed a breathtaking view; the ocean lay below the crag the shop sat atop, its waves choppy and spitting white foam up into the hazy sapphire sky. Wisps of clouds streaked it, looking almost like a fog tumbling through the atmosphere upon the blustering wind. Directly outside the shop, however, were plants: small shrubs bearing tiny black and red fruits, and potted plants – yellow and green and white – wilting in the cold.

Yet, even though the world outside looked cold, with shoppers bustling by in their coats and scarves, birds picking at the bushes’ berries with plump autumnal feathers, the inside of the shop was warm. Within its walls, the air was somewhat balmy, but in a comfortable way; bookshelves lined one wall, and indoor plants were scattered around to give the impression of being inside a cosy sitting room, perhaps a fireplace crackling while the customers enjoyed their drinks.

Yes, Ashe sat in a coffee shop – “coffee” was even in the shop’s _name_ – and yet the drink that sat in the mug beside him, effusing its sweet, heart-warming scent, was hot chocolate. There was whipped cream atop it, slowly melting into the steaming substance beneath, the white creating swirling patterns across the rich brown surface.

He took a sip, scalding the tip of his tongue just slightly before the sugaryness hit his throat. It was made with cream instead of milk, which – in his opinion at least – made it all the more tasty. His eyes widened in delight. He would never fully remember how good it tasted, and it would come as a shock to him every time. The feeling was welcome, though.

To Ashe, hot chocolate tasted so good that he wondered why it wasn’t more popular. He placed his mug down and returned to his laptop, the words on the pages blurring into one black fuzz, as a thought distracted him. Why were coffee shops so widespread across Faerghus? What he wouldn’t do for a hot chocolate café – one centred around the delicious beverage. Perhaps the blackboard that sat on the wall behind the counter – the menu written in white chalk and a beautiful script – would bear items more enticing to him: white hot chocolate, raspberry or cherry fruit infusions, or salted caramel and pumpkin spice shots within.

What Ashe wouldn’t do for that.

Alas, he had tried time and time again to enjoy the taste of coffee, and yet the only flavour discernible to him as the liquid assaulted his tastebuds was _bitterness_. It was positively unpleasant, curdling in his mouth with the tangy strength of over-brewed tea, its flavour potent. It almost stung and made him pull a face as though sucking on something sour, like when fresh orange juice was _too_ fresh to be enjoyable.

Ashe wantedto like it, almost desperately so. His friends guzzled the stuff; it had fueled many a student in Garreg Mach through their class grinds. That would have been incredibly helpful for him when he’d had to fight off the dozes that had washed over him during the crunches to become a Sniper. The war was over now, though – Ashe had no need to stay up into the wee hours and study.

Even so, his friends still bought fanciful versions of coffee, with towering cream and marshmallows and syrups drizzled all over them. Admittedly, those made Ashe’s mouth water, yet no matter how much he tried them – no matter how hard Annette had tried to convince me that mochas were “basically hot chocolate” and that one “can’t even taste the coffee” – his tastebuds would always fail him: they would urge Ashe not to like it, and he was thrall to them.

Snapping him from his daydream, however, came a voice from across the table.

“I apologise for being late.”

Lowering his book and closing the cover, Ashe looked up to see his love, greeting him with a soft, adoring smile and taking off his coat. Dedue set his own mug down on the table before sitting opposite Ashe and shrugged off his handsome bearskin coat. His hair was long now, tied up into a ponytail that brushed the nape of his neck while platinum white stubble sprouted from around his jaw.

He was the most handsome man Ashe had ever seen. And he was all his.

“How was work?” Ashe asked.

Dedue sat and gave a small smile. “The same as usual, I suppose. The flower shop doesn’t have too much business on weekdays.” He took his drink in both hands and raised it to his lips.

Sure enough, Dedue’s mug contained the ominous dark concoction of black coffee. Beneath the sunlight which streamed in from the window beside them, the liquid looked almost purple, reminding Ashe of some sort of poison that Hubert von Vestra might have cooked up in their academy days.

It smelled like it too.

“I _wish_ I could like coffee,” Ashe sighed, pointing to Dedue’s mug emitting a mist of steam.

And Dedue told Ashe yet again, as he had so many times in the past: “It doesn’t _have_ to be so bitter.”

Ashe knew exactly how Dedue would say it, with the exact smiling intonation, and he said it along with his paramour almost like a singalong. He also knew that, immediately after, he would give Ashe a suggestion on how to make it bearable.

And he did.

“Why don’t you put some sugar in it?”

Ashe could only smile, and looked back out at the ocean as it encroached upon the pebbly shore, driving away the visitors walking across it. Why didn’t he merely put some sugar in it? Because that did nothing to drive away the bitterness. The sugar merely sat on top, lulling Ashe into a false sense of security before the bitter tang would chomp at his tongue once more.

Try as he might, Ashe did not like coffee. Not even sugar could change that.

He did, however, like Dedue. He loved his husband, and gave him a heartfelt smile as a warmth flooded his chest. "Perhaps I will. Perhaps you can make me one when we get home."

Dedue's brow furrowed. "We're at a coffee shop, my love."

"But everything's better when you do it."


End file.
